


Insolation

by Semicircles



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 06:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semicircles/pseuds/Semicircles
Summary: Elio acts nonchalant.





	Insolation

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in ages, so be gentle.

Oliver says ”later” like yeah probably for dinner, uh I'm not sure – like he's most likely coming back but don't count on it. He says ”later” like he's likely to be leaving so what Elio then does: waits for him to leave. And then Elio acts as nonchalant as Oliver is. This is just six weeks. He can manage.  
Sometimes though. As Oliver's leaving the dinner table, he's looking at Elio for a bit longer than Elio's used to. Maybe Americans are like that? Oliver's very straightforward. At these moments Elio thinks about girls, thinks about the way Oliver's hands touch their backs, their buttocks, thinks about the way Oliver probably looks at them. Elio acts nonchalant and thinks: it should be easier than this.  
The languid, lazy summer is stretching out in front of Elio like the city, and what he now does: goes crazy with desire in a tiny room. Now Oliver occupies the room next to his (Elio hears the sounds he makes, thumping of his feet, the slight snore as inhales when he's sleeping) (occupies his old room, occupies his old self, effortlessly) (waits for him to leave). Everything Elio now does in his own room reflects this knowledge, his movements stiff and mechanic now, like one of those wooden mannequins his father sometimes uses as a model of the human form when he draws humans, arms and feet bending at elbows and knees, stiffly, dumbly.  
Lakes and hidden forest places are now places of freedom, where he can move freely and breathe, so he grabs a book and his journal: but even there's ”hey, wanna go swimming”, as Elio's leaving (still so nonchalant). Hey, could we breathe together? It's just an idea –  
Of course he doesn't say it out loud.  
”Yeah I was just – guess you can come along.”  
This lusty dog-fever summer, small and intimate like fingerprints on the iron rod of his bed, big like thunder. So they go swimming; first Elio watches Oliver jump into the lake, then catches himself watching, gasps, then looks away.  
Oliver: ”Come on, the water's not gonna be this warm forever!”  
So Elio jumps, shuts his eyes as he goes underwater, gasps for air as he reaches the surface. And Oliver swims closer, closer, and laughs, his lips wet from the water, drops of water pouring down his cheeks and shoulders, the drps glimmering.  
The heavy sun hangs above them, and Oliver swims closer, closer to him. Is this what insolation feels like? Oliver goes underwater and then his head is above the surface again, and Elio feels like he's looking at a photo and can't tell if the horizon line is off or not. Oliver laughs, is he laughing at Elio?  
”Come on Elio, don't look so worried...”  
They could have done a better job with their towels because as they're leaving their backs are still wet so their t-shirts get wet too, but hey, no-one's looking. They're hopping on their bikes when, abruptly, Oliver reaches out his hand and then ruffles Elio's hair, then smiles, white teeth even whiter in the direct sunlight. First Elio can't breathe, then he forces himself to think that Oliver does this with everyone, small gestures, touching like it doesn't matter. Nonchalance is easier when you remind yourself that you're not special in any way. Because Oliver is special; he is talking to girls, girls are crushing on him, Elio is just crushed, period. They go to discos together and Elio leaves early because. Because. But even Oliver's absence is a presence as Elio lies on his bed, the room next to him is silent and Oliver's absence is a chipped tooth, you remember it every time you graze your tongue over it, Elio's grazing his tongue over it all the time.  
It's just six weeks.


End file.
